Madeleine Riley shot a glance at her father, the anger coiling inside her kept in check by a sudden, unexpected smile. "You have a point. Let's hand this project over to Jacqueline." Her words left both John Riley and Jacqueline Riley stunned. Madeleine had busted her ass to land this deal—burning the midnight oil, running herself ragged, even giving herself a stress ulcer in the process. She'd closed a multimillion-dollar contract, and now she was letting it slip away without so much as a fight.

John's face relaxed into something dangerously close to satisfaction. "Madeleine, I know how much effort you've put into this. Once things settle down, you can work under Jacqueline. After all, you're both my daughters."

"No need. I'm done with this company." Her tone was calm, almost cool, as she let her gaze drag over the father-daughter duo with a hint of mockery. She wasn't about to bust her back for anyone without a paycheck attached. John had always favored Jacqueline, so let him deal with the fallout. The new partner in London was a nightmare to negotiate with—the whole department had been pulling their hair out over him. If Jacqueline could handle the mess, soothe the shareholders, and keep the company's stock from tanking, that was her problem now.

After wrapping up the resignation paperwork, Madeleine headed straight home. She started packing for her Alps trip, pulling out the clothes and jewelry Nicholas Hawkins had given her. Back then, Nicholas had showered her with items identical to the ones he gave Jacqueline—a pathetic attempt to stir jealousy. But most of Madeleine's were knockoffs. At the time, she'd assumed Nicholas was just oblivious when it came to women's things, too embarrassed to call him out. Now she had a sinking feeling the real stuff had all gone to Jacqueline.

Madeleine gathered every last piece and posted a photo on Facebook: "Free to a good home." Nicholas wanted to gift Jacqueline the same pieces as a subtle show of favoritism? Fine. She'd make sure half the city ended up with them. The thought of Jacqueline showing up somewhere in the same outfit as a bunch of other women had her biting back a grin.

No sooner had she shipped off Nicholas's so-called gifts than her phone buzzed with a message from her brother, Ethan Silva: "Madeleine, I've got some leads on that thing you asked me to dig into. But nailing down solid evidence is going to take more time—you might have to hang tight a little longer."

Reading his words, a wave of gratitude swelled in her chest. "Thank you, bro. Sorry for the hassle."

Nicholas's people had been careful—they'd covered their tracks well when it came to the blame game. Uncovering the truth wouldn't be easy, but she wasn't in a rush. If Nicholas had a hand in it, the trail would surface eventually. People always slipped up.

Lost in thought, another message from Ethan popped up, this one carrying a heavier tone: "All these years, we were afraid our family history would make it hard for you to fit in with your birth family, so we stayed out of your life. It's on us—we're the reason you've been through so much."

That message hit her right in the chest. She realized, in that moment, that she'd never been unloved. She'd been so fixated on chasing a hopeless dream, she'd missed all the people who actually gave a damn about her.

"It's not your fault," she replied, about to explain further when another text came through—a string of numbers.

"Madeleine, while you're in Europe, you might need connections. Remember that arranged marriage offer you turned down? The Thompson family is still interested. Here's Victor's number."

"Also, his mother has serious connections there. If you ever need help, reach out to him. Mom and I think you two might just hit it off."

Ethan kept it brief. The Thompsons were one of the most prestigious families in London. Victor wasn't the heir, sure, but he had a reputation for being decent and straight-up. More importantly, his older brother basically ran the city's business empire—think prince of London. With that kind of firepower behind him, Victor could pull strings just about anywhere.

Madeleine almost turned it down—she had zero connection to this guy, after all—but her brother's gentle push made her agree to at least think about it.

"Got it, bro," she finally wrote back.

With Ethan squared away, Madeleine stared at that phone number for a long while. Then she typed out two messages.

"Hello, this is Madeleine Riley, Ethan's sister."

"I've been through some rough patches in Europe. If you don't mind, maybe we can get to know each other."

She kept it blunt. She figured a messy past didn't have to stop someone from starting fresh. And if Victor was going to hold her history against her, then marriage wasn't in the cards anyway. Who in their right mind would want someone who'd been through all that? She was being practical about it—except she'd made a tiny mistake. She typed the number wrong. Just one digit off, second-to-last.

Meanwhile, in a grand manor overlooking the bustling Thames, Victor Thompson stood by the window. The home—steeped in history, dripping with old money—glowed with warmth and luxury, the kind of place that screamed wealth without saying a word.

Victor, shrugging into an overcoat, let his gaze wander across London before glancing at his phone. Two unread messages. He paused when he saw the sender—Madeleine Riley.

He knew the Thompsons were trying to set up an arrangement between his brother and the Silva family's adopted daughter. But it looked like she'd sent her message to the wrong person, confusing him for his brother Edmund.

Victor's lips curved into a slow, amused smile as he started to type. "Miss Riley, I appreciate your honesty. I don't mind."

When Madeleine Riley read the message the next day, she was caught off guard. It was just a single line, but it lingered in her mind. Victor Thompson felt mysterious, yet strangely familiar—and that little spark of intrigue warmed her chest. She'd half-expected him to judge her for her prison stint, but he turned out to be decent, totally free of prejudice. Maybe, just maybe, she could actually give him a chance.

Since they hadn't met face-to-face yet, Madeleine kept things light—no more messages after the initial hello. But as her return to London loomed closer, so did the flutter of anticipation. That afternoon, she headed out to sort her travel documents.

Only a few days left, and her ties to Nicholas Hawkins would finally be severed. Just as she finished up the paperwork, a text buzzed in from a friend.

"Hey, sweetie, Oliver's back in town. We're throwing him a welcome bash tonight—he'd love to see you."

Oliver was an old friend, always laid-back and well-liked. He'd been her rock during the darkest stretch of her life. After a moment's hesitation, Madeleine decided to go.

"I'll be there."

She slipped into a fresh outfit and made her way to the party, completely unaware that both Jacqueline Riley and Nicholas Hawkins would be there.

The room was buzzing by the time she walked in. Jacqueline, as usual, held court, surrounded by admirers. Nicholas hovered close, gently coaxing her to lay off the coffee—their proximity said everything.

It wasn't until someone murmured, "Wait, what's Madeleine doing here? She just got out of prison—isn't she bad news?" that the room's attention swung her way. Nicholas's eyes flickered with surprise, and something close to admiration.

Jacqueline had a thing for bold, revealing Victorian-style dresses—the kind Nicholas would buy for Madeleine too. But tonight, Madeleine showed up in a simple white slip dress, hair falling soft around her shoulders, her face calm, almost otherworldly. She looked like a rare pearl just unearthed.

Someone near Nicholas whispered, "She must've dressed up for you. You've been ignoring her for days—she's probably hurting." Nicholas kept his face blank, but the corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk.

He knew she couldn't really end things. Their history as childhood sweethearts ran too deep; she was too sentimental to walk away. Everyone knew Madeleine was beautiful, but few had seen her like this. Still, the room kept its sneers—convinced she'd shown up because of him.

But Madeleine walked right past Nicholas and headed straight to Oliver. "Oliver, welcome back."

Oliver, always kind, had been studying abroad. He'd treated Madeleine like a little sister, though their bond wasn't something everyone knew about.

He gave her hair a gentle ruffle and smiled. "Well, well—looks like our Maddie's changed."

Nicholas caught the exchange, and his expression went cold. He'd see how long she could keep up this act.

Jacqueline noticed too. A flash of something sharp crossed her eyes before she bounded over, looping her arm through Madeleine's with fake warmth. "Sis, you look stunning tonight. I might just have to crown you my new favorite!" She slipped herself right between Madeleine and Oliver.

Madeleine watched the performance with a wry smile. Jacqueline always had a knack for shoving her way in where she wasn't invited—playing the loving sister when it suited her, then discarding her when it didn't.

Just as Madeleine opened her mouth to respond, someone voiced their disdain. "Oliver, do you even know? Madeleine's been in prison. Inviting someone like her to your welcome party is trashy."

Nicholas thought about stepping in, but then he remembered she'd blocked him. He sank back into his seat. Maybe she needed a reminder of where she stood without him.

Madeleine felt a chill run through her as her eyes swept past Nicholas. She had no illusions about him anymore—but he was the reason she'd ended up in prison. And still, he sat there, utterly indifferent.

She was about to respond when Jacqueline cut in, "What are you talking about? She's my sister and Nicholas's girlfriend. She just made a mistake. If Nicholas and I don't care, why should you?"

"I've been in prison, yes—but I committed no crime," Madeleine shot back coolly. "And if there's any bad luck in this room, it sure as hell isn't mine."

Her words stunned everyone silent. Several pairs of eyes darted toward Nicholas. Was she implying he was the real culprit? Had she lost her mind—or was she actually done with him?

Nicholas's brow furrowed deeper. He'd never imagined Madeleine, the girl who practically worshipped him, would talk like this out in public.

Ignoring him, Madeleine turned to Oliver, a flicker of anxiety in her eyes. "Oliver, about the prison thing—"

"Don't worry about it." Oliver cut her off gently, then swept his gaze across the room. "I invited Madeleine. If anyone here feels unlucky, you're free to leave."

Madeleine's eyes stung. Since her release, kindness like this was rare—most people just threw harsh words her way. Oliver's statement shut down every whisper, leaving everyone momentarily at a loss.

She let out a quiet breath of relief and settled down beside Oliver, who glanced thoughtfully between her and Nicholas. "So... what's going on with you and him?"

Madeleine Riley shrugged. "We just weren't right for each other, so we called it quits."

Oliver Monroe replied gently, "I don't know exactly what went down between you two, but it's clear you weren't meant to be. You're strong, and maybe this is for the best. You don't want to carry that kind of baggage around anyway."

Madeleine nodded quietly, leaving it at that. Nicholas had set her up to take the fall for him, but she didn't want to drag all that ugliness into the open. Oliver had always been supportive, and she refused to let the messy details of her relationship with Nicholas overshadow his welcome party.

Their conversation cut short when Jacqueline Riley's voice sliced through the air.

"Sis, we're playing King's Cup. Come join us!" she chirped with fake innocence, then pouted. "After all, this is Oliver's welcome party. You wouldn't want to spoil the fun, right? Besides, I'd rather play with you than a bunch of dumb boys."

Madeleine's brow furrowed. She didn't want to make a scene at Oliver's party, but she knew exactly what the game's dares could lead to...

Nicholas Hawkins sauntered over and, with forced calm, took her hand. His eyes were unreadable. "Madeleine, you can't hold your liquor. Don't make this a thing. Just admit you lost and I'll take your drink if you don't want the dare."

Madeleine yanked her hand back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "No need. I can handle the game just fine."

Jacqueline had assumed Madeleine was still allergic to alcohol and that losing the drinking game would force her into a truth-or-dare. But what she didn't know was that during Madeleine's time in detention, some of the other detainees had smuggled in booze. Madeleine had gone through hell with allergic reactions, but she'd pushed through and built up a tolerance.

Round after round, Madeleine managed to stay under the radar—until the final round, when she couldn't dodge a dare.

Jacqueline held the King card and smiled sweetly, her voice laced with challenge. "This is my sister we're talking about, so you guys can't go too hard on her. How about you just tell us what detention was like?"

For a moment, silence fell over the room.

Oliver's brow furrowed as he stepped in. "That's crossing the line, Jacqueline. I'll take Madeleine's dare myself."

Nicholas's eyes snapped up, irritation flashing as he glanced between Madeleine and Oliver. Oliver was known for his integrity, always playing the protective older brother. If work hadn't kept him away from the city, Madeleine and Oliver might have been even closer. And that closeness had always made Nicholas jealous.

Jacqueline wasn't satisfied. "But sis said she could handle it, Oliver. Don't be so obviously biased."

Then some guy chimed in with a crude jab. "Yeah, let her talk! I've heard women who come out of detention are never the same. You still pure, Madeleine? How about stripping down so we can find out?"

"That's right, sis. We're all family here. And with your engagement to Nicholas coming up, better to clear up any rumors now so everyone can feel good. Right, Nicholas?"

Madeleine looked at Nicholas. He just watched the spectacle with casual detachment, like he was amused by the drama and certain she'd eventually cave.

The room buzzed with taunts—all of them eager to expose her, to see if she'd been "tainted."

Oliver's expression darkened, and he was about to intervene when Madeleine suddenly grabbed a wine bottle and smashed it over the head of the guy who'd suggested inspecting her.

Glass flew everywhere.

Madeleine snatched a jagged shard, shoved Jacqueline against the table with one hand, and pressed the sharp edge to her throat. Her voice was ice-cold. "Curious about detention? Go find out for yourself."

She gave Nicholas a scathing glance, her lips curling in mockery. "Oh, and your precious Nicholas didn't tell you? I dumped him."

"Madeleine, have you lost your damn mind?" the bleeding guy shouted furiously, while Jacqueline squirmed in the humiliating hold, careful not to move too much against the glass at her neck.

Madeleine's grip stayed firm, keeping Jacqueline pinned exactly where she wanted her.

"Sis, we're like family here! It was just a joke. Did you seriously break up with Nicholas over this?" Jacqueline was still stirring the pot, even now.

Madeleine snorted and pressed harder, making Jacqueline cry out. Finally, Nicholas stepped forward, looking ready to shove Madeleine off.

"Take one more step, and I might not be so careful," Madeleine said, her voice stopping him cold.

Nicholas froze, a hint of worry creeping into his usually confident gaze.

"Madeleine, do you have any idea what you're doing? If you hurt someone, you'll end up right back in detention," he urged, sounding like he was concerned for her freedom. But his eyes were locked on Jacqueline, exposing his real worry.

Madeleine saw right through him, and the bitterness twisted in her chest. She'd been so blind before, never seeing Nicholas's true feelings for Jacqueline. Now, with her heart hardened and her illusions shattered, she realized she'd been nothing more than a pawn in his pursuit of Jacqueline.

But it wasn't too late.

"What's the plan now, Nicholas? Trick me again just to get me locked up?" Madeleine's tone was glacial.

Nicholas blinked, stunned. "Nicholas?" She only used his full name back when she first returned to the Rileys. Since they started dating, she'd always called him something softer.

His fists clenched, disbelief flashing in his eyes.

And what kind of "trick" was she talking about? Had she uncovered his long-running deception? Panic surged through him, along with a sudden, desperate need to explain himself.